Rumbles that shake the floor have warned me.  Light
that shocks expectant pupils washes the
night sky white. Knowing it is coming doesn’t
make arrival normal.  Every jolt touches
the sky a shade of silhouette. Reality
highlighted as a moment captured by
electric flash. The inspiration for
a light bulb that tries to
tame
night
into day.
 
A glimpse in the mirror shows aging is
occurring. A small sign of moments past.
Memories of time no longer mine and
a future yet unfolding. Knowing
what is happening doesn’t make arrival
normal. Only by my focus can I
hold on to my life. The wisdom asking
me to see the lightning as it washes
my mind white. To feel this moment as the
best
time
to see it.

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Some poets followed by susan morris...

Olga Gavrilovskiy Mary Oliver